


In the Way

by Lacanthrope



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-28 15:57:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/676218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacanthrope/pseuds/Lacanthrope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As much as he liked knives, he didn't like smiles that reminded him of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Way

This was bad.

He normally didn’t slot things under that category because it seemed like a waste of time. Nothing was ever actually bad, only if he didn’t get out fast enough. But that was precisely what was happening now so it was only appropriate that it fit that label.

“Nowhere to go now.”

Deimos eyed the fighter in front of him. Too big to drop.

His body pressed Deimos against the wall and he could feel a sneer against his ear.

Stupid enough to get close though. Deimos flicked out his blade but his eyes widened as he felt the fighter’s hand wrap around his skinny wrist and pin it to the wall above his head. The smile now had too many teeth.

“Heard a lot about you sweetheart.”

Deimos flinched away from his hot breath and the grip around his wrist tightened painfully. He had been so careful on this ship. He had promised himself that this time was going to be different. He didn’t hang around the other fighters, never went anywhere without his knife. But even after all that planning, here he was.

The knife clattered against the grating and suddenly Deimos’ hand felt very cold.

“Everybody's heard about you after what you did to Roaz.”

Deimos brought his foot down on the fighter’s and used the gap in concentration to sent his elbow into the junction between the fighter’s neck and shoulder. The familiar pop of a disconnecting ligament and the snarl of pain accompanying it tugged at the corners of Deimos’ lips for only a moment.

“You little shit-“

The sound of Deimos’ boot connecting with cheekbones was just as familiar although never as satisfying. The fighter wheezed some more sounds that could have been words and then Deimos made a mistake.

He had made quite a few in his life but he still never learned from them. 

Instead of stomping on the rest of the fighter’s head, he stopped. The grunts of pain were so similar to the ones that so often fell out his own lungs. It was always so surreal to hear them coming out of some one else. 

Then the fighter was on his feet and Deimos found himself pressed against the wall. This time with both his arms pinned above him and one of the fighter’s legs trapped both of Deimos’.

Deimos kept the side of his head pressed against the cool metal wall. He’d lost count of how many times he’d wished he was small enough to fit through the cracks in walls. All of the other colony kids wished they were birds or bats but he’d seen enough rotting animals on top of trash heaps to know that wasn’t any better. If only he could have been be a slow, rolling bank of mist crawling through the trees. Terrifying and divine all in one.

“I’m going to enjoy this-“

The familiar glint of metal sparked in the corner of Deimos’ vision. His eyes flicked up to the fighter’s wide eyes, then down to the blade pressed neatly underneath his chin. Another voice, this one wilder and lower from behind the fighter’s looming form.

“Stole the words right out of my mouth.”

The grip around Deimos’ wrist loosened but the fighter didn’t move. His wild eyes just gazed into the space above Deimos’ head and the blade pressed in a little deeper. Deimos could smell the stale fear beading off of him and the corners of Deimos’ lips twitched before dropping back into a flat line.

“Got three seconds to make it around that corner down there or I’ll rip you right open.”

The blade pressed away, just enough to let the fighter stumble away from Deimos and rub his throat. Deimos kept his face pressed against the wall and could only watch the fighter’s lips jerk against his teeth.

“You fucking piece of gypsy shi-“

The same voice spoke again, but this time with a sharp smile behind it.

“Two.”

It only took the fighter half a second to realize Deimos wasn’t worth the blood in his neck. He stumbled backwards a few steps then disappeared down the hallway. It was when the sound of hard boots on grating was distant that Deimos rolled his gaze to the other man. 

It was another fighter, leaner and smaller than the other one, but still bigger and stronger than Deimos. He had a smug, satisfied smirk on his lips and Deimos couldn’t figure out if the clenching in his chest was a good or bad thing. 

The man neatly tucked his blade back into his boot then flicked his smirk up at Deimos. Deimos could probably drop him if he got at him at just the right angle. 

“Deimos, right?”

He nodded hesitantly even though there wasn’t a point. It hadn’t really been a question. The man stepped towards Deimos slowly, like an alley cat stalking rats. He stopped a few steps away and bent down to pick up Deimos’ blade. He stood and dragged his eyes over the blade then to Deimos' face, his smirk widening. 

“I’m Cain-”

He held out the hilt of Deimos’ knife and his smirk cut into a smile Deimos knew he was going to regret trusting.

“-And I’ve heard a lot about you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Dubstep and space is a lethal poison for my productivity.  
> I kind of get the feeling that Cain and Deimos have a really dark history, but time-wise, not a long one. Or maybe I'm crazy?


End file.
